Midnight Fabric
by Sisi427
Summary: Fueled by anger, Takasugi decides to crash an elite party, hosted by a partner that "forgot" to pay him. Once scouting the grounds for survivors, he stumbles upon a person that he, remarkably, doesn't kill. It benefits him of course, but he finds himself in possession of something personal, that belongs to her. Taka/Oc
1. Chapter 1

**hi all! Guess who's baaack? **  
**Okay, so this is another attempt at a Taka story. I wasn't satisfied with "Black Silk", so I removed it. Lets all just pretend that that didn't exist, okay? This is better. Trust me. Waaayy batter. So, without further ado, please, take a look if you'd like, and enjoy the better everything that this story will offer, lol.**

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It was a blood bath. No other word could describe the scene that laid before him. All over a single broken agreement. He supplied the means and his partner, the chaos. If Takasugi agreed to something, he expected it be done properly, ending in his payment, of course.

After a month of reminders and waiting, his patience snapped. If he had been lenient, he regretted it. If he had seemed a pushover, he would correct that faulty image of him. To make a point. Sword in hand, the man walked the blood-spattered halls, searching for survivors. This place, the nullified agreement, meant nothing to him. He didn't care about being paid in money, any more. If he couldn't gain wealth, he would take a pound of flesh. Or the life of everybody involved in the traitor's affairs. Family, friends, he didn't care. This was far too personal to be considered business.

Therefore, he did. He loosed his followers on the place with a command to eliminate all of the partygoers. It didn't make sense for the man he had eliminated to be rubbing elbows with a bunch of elites while he survived off cup noodles. Renting fancy dinner halls in remote locations while Takasugi wore the same kimono, lightly washed, for the third day in a row.

The sound of rain, echoed through the halls, deafening as the storm picked up outside. It wasn't the best weather to drive in, but it was preferred for such an occasion. Any surrounding buildings would be filled with the sound of a storm, which would block out any cries of terror. A crack of thunder punctuated the thought, and Takasugi moved into the meeting room.

Around him, piled at his feet, laid a numberless body count. Pools of blood had quickly formed around the dismembered limbs, proving that Takasugi was not one to toy with. He would not stand for being double-crossed. Deals were not a joke. His resources were not toys. That man had likely laughed at him, thinking him naive. All bark. Only Takasugi could have the last laugh and so far, so good.

Exquisite wooden walls covered the extent of the building, paired with equally luminous floors. Takasugi stepped over yet another limp form, and walked to a sliding glass door. Blood clung to the glass, messily trailing down the door.

He would kill them all. That would be his pay. One less crowd of arrogant politicians and rich idiots. The door lead to a garden area, fully decorated with flowers and a small pond, rocking with the addition of water from the skies. Takasugi walked the perimeter of the area, hoping to find any cowards that had fled the building. He could hear a scream in the distance, inside of the hall he had exited. Raindrops trailed down his face, further soaking his shoulders and robe. The man could see the scarlet tint in the rain around him, contrasting the white stone pathway.

The man could feel his hair being weighed down by the water and dark strands came into view, plastered to the wrap over his bad eye.

As he reached the opposite end of the garden, a form seated on the end of a stone barrier caught his attention.

Another person to erase.

She was clothed in white and unaware of the man behind her. Even as he approached the girl, she remained unaware. Locks of blonde and black hung down her back, and she appeared to be fully engaged in something other than defending her life. The sound of thunder drowned out his steps. The girl's clothes were completely soaked through.

Only a short step away, the one-eyed man raised his sword. She was another one of them. A happy-go-lucky entitled little bitch, sitting in her pristine white attire. Not even caring about sullying her dress with mud. Even the violent barrage of rain didn't seem to bother her. As he glared down at the girl, she placed a palm behind herself and turned to stare up at him.

She didn't move. Eyes didn't widen a bit. Nestled between her fingers, a cigar released a streak of smoke between them. As if he had been caught, Takasugi remained still. She was probably one of them. Somebody that would double cross him. Despite the blood soaked man menacing over her, donning an equally stained sword, the girl wasn't getting up. She wasn't running, or shouting. Her expression didn't twist with horror, and her brows didn't knit together. She simply raised the cigar to her lips and inhaled as she continued to look at him.

For a reason unknown to him, Takasugi lowered his sword. No smile was exchanged. No words, or conformational nod. The girl kept her feet in the water of the pond, and he kept his eye on her as he turned his body. She wasn't worth his time, and clearly didn't fit this scene. These people wouldn't soak their feet in dirty pond water. They wouldn't be outside, dirtying their fancy clothes, or doing drugs in the corner. They would have run at the sight of him. Tried to buy what little time they had left in their life and flee. That girl had nothing to do with anything. She had some sort form of dirt on her hand and inappropriate hair.

There were better people for him to kill.

As he took her appearance into consideration, Takasugi heard a small splash. He turned to see the girl focusing on the water, idly kicking her feet. The ripples combined with that of the rain and rushed against a mossy stone beside the girl.

He had bored her.

The girl peered back up at him for a split second before pushing herself from the ground. She turned to face him, skimming over the man as he realized that her dress was an apron. She was a server. The girl slipped a small brown book into her apron pocket, her full attention on him. Without a word, she extended the cigar. As if she thought that he had come to smoke with her. Eying the blunt, Takasugi felt his sword arm grow lax. Only the sound of the metal scraping the stone ground snagged his attention.

He focused on the girl in front of him, which had crossed her arms, her attention on the end of his sword as well.

"No." His voice seemed to be lost in the rain. He was positive that it had fallen to the ground like one of the many drops, but the girl caught his gaze.

The cigar was lowered, offer retracted, and silently, she passed him, tilting her shoulder back to avoid all contact and slip by. The smoke from her cigar burned his nostrils with hints of its stench, lost in the rain and clearly different from his tobacco. At the second step, the girl faltered, and she leaned dangerously close to him. Threatened to use him to keep her balance. Takasugi instinctively raised his arms and moved back, not wanting to be touched by the stranger. He didn't care if she fell, that wasn't his problem. But she wasn't allowed to touch him in the process. Just the thought made his skin crawl.

Equally appalled, the girl retracted her hand and shifted her weight as far from him as possible.

Just how high was she? Seeing the impending doom, Takasugi reached towards the girl and grabbed the only thing he could.

Hair. A handful of it.

Tension snapped to a halt and the girl hovered over the ground, possibly as stunned as he was. From his sleeve, a red trail seeped towards her. He had blood on his hands! He was about to get it in the blonde! No, he probably already had! Heavy rain wasn't enough to get the sticky liquid out, and he was well aware. It wasn't just a thin coating. As soon as the thought hit him, he released the girl and she smacked the ground, unleashing a new wave of panic.

That was not the plan.

Frowning at the still body, the one-eyed man awaited some sort of movement. Any hint that she hadn't died on impact. If looks were to be trusted, her face would crack like porcelain. Why the hell had he tried to stop her from falling in the first place? Why would he care about getting blood in the blonde of her hair? What on earth would make her think that _he_ wanted drugs? He was soaked in blood, and had clearly displayed the intention of beheading her.

This was supposed to be the time that she tried to run, not face plant and just lay on the ground. Gave chase, and proved that she was prey to be hunted, instead of another predatory existence. From the looks of things, she was neither. He'd broken the doll. She could have been an android for all he knew, there was no blood to be seen. Aside from what he had already been wearing, that is. When the girl finally sat up, she turned to him, unamused. Mud had smeared the front of her apron, leaving the once white fabric a fading shade of gray. She examined herself, knees, and palms, ending with a hand tracing over her chin for good measure. When the girl's palm came back into question, it was apparent that she had been scraped on impact. Tiny beads of scarlet started to form, proving that her skin had been broken.

Despite her injury, she simply stared at him. Possibly waiting for movement. He wasn't sure of where to go from there. An attempt at aid had resulted in him fumbling around and injuring her. Instead, as she attempted to stand, he quickly yanked the girl to her feet by her arm. Care was taken to scoop up a small leather bound book that had landed beside her. The man ushered her to a nearby swing, sheltered from the harsh rain. Her cigar was lost along the way, ignored as Takasugi placed the girl on the seat hanging from the treetops, as if nothing had happened.

There. She was out of the way. Now he could get back to killing everybody.

But he'd gotten mud on her apron. It was so clean at first. Without thinking, the man started to wipe at the fabric. Palm open, he attempted to clear the debris away. The girl stared down at his work in progress, arms up. Before he knew it she smacked his hand away.

What the hell did she want from him?! It was the polite thing to do! He'd gotten mud on the freaking thing and she couldn't serve people like that! Then again, there wasn't anybody for her to serve. Unless she wanted to bring him a gin and tonic. That was probably too much to ask. Was she even old enough to serve alcohol? The thought danced through his head, masked by a perfectly stern glare. Immediately, the girl crossed her arms and sank into herself. Maybe that was a bit more unusual than he'd thought. She was pouting off to the side, silently demanding that he refrain from staring. Well, fuck her. If that's how she wanted to be...

Grabbing the edge of the girl's apron, Takasugi brought his sword to it. Horrified, the girl watched as he wiped his blade on the last bit of white that had remained. When Takasugi's eye met hers, he was visibly annoyed. Crimson had smeared her clothes, and left the man's sword sparkling clean. As if he hadn't just murdered an entire party. His glare was met with a raised brow and smack of his hand again. The girl reached behind herself and soon she was pulling the fabric over her head.

The apron fell to the ground, revealing a black sleeveless shirt, and a mutual moment of expressionless glances was exchanged. Well, that was it. She was clean now. Okay. _Now_ he could get back to killing everyone.

Just as he thought he was free to leave, the girl extended her skinned palm, frowning. Shit, she was still angry! It wasn't his fault that she fell! She shouldn't have stood up in the first place! Now she was bleeding and expectantly watching him.

With an exasperated sigh, Takasugi snatched the abandoned apron from the ground. His sword was used to cut a shoulder out of the fabric, as well as the ties from the side. He sheathed his sword and turned back to the girl, silently condemning her with his gaze as he snatched her hand. Working as quickly as possible, the one-eyed man wrapped the fabric around her palm and secured it with the ties from the apron.

"_There_. Good as new. _Happy_ now?" Snarking the words, Takasugi rolled his eye. The girl examined his work, shrugging it off as if he hadn't just done her a favor.

Wait a second, why wasn't he killing her?! That was the reason for approaching her in the first place! She'd distracted him, somehow. Probably said something that threw him off. All of this time had been spent with some idiot that couldn't even walk a straight line! Then again, he wasn't there for her. She was just a dirt-covered, waitress. Possibly a witness. She didn't seem alarmed or afraid. What would be the fun in killing her if she just sat there? That would be the most unsatisfying victory under his belt. Moreover, if she was going to be a threat, it would be clear.

The sound of the glass door opening boiled the lax air. Realization dawned on Takasugi as abruptly as he had entered the building before his bought of wrath. If somebody else found this girl, they would definitely kill her without waiting for his word. He had instructed them to do so, and now, he almost regretted it. He had to put her somewhere. In the bushes? No, they were already behind bushes! But she would still be visible. Whoever it was would see her side. Before he could even move, there could be a bullet in her brain!

"Shh..." The girl peered up at him as he leaned away, his eye fixed on the door across the pond.

"Shinsuke, are you out here?" Kawakami stepped into view, and before the man could look in his direction, Takasugi was stepping around the girl. He almost sighed in relief, but they weren't in the clear just yet. With his back to her, Takasugi glanced over his shoulder. She was small enough to be hidden behind him.

"_What_ is it?" The question rolled off his tongue with more venom than intended, yet the teal-haired deaf man didn't acknowledge the tone. Without his knowledge, the rain had lessened around them, the sound soft enough to hear across the yard. As the weather predicted, there had been assorted storms and showers, which would last through the weekend.

"We're done in here. Are you ready?"

A prompt nod was all that was offered. The deaf man lingered in the doorway, waiting for Takasugi to approach. They stared at one another across the yard, yet he never moved an inch. How long was Kawakami going to look at him like that? Not that he was making an expression or anything, but still. It was uncomfortable. It seemed as though an hour had passed before the deaf man moved. In unspoken resignation, he walked back into the building, leaving Takasugi with the girl once more.

Positive that they were completely alone, Takasugi released a pent up breath. This was ridiculous. Why was he hiding her?! All he had to say was "This one lives", and they would listen! It was so stupid that he could have smacked himself. Nevertheless, the man slowly pivoted on his heel. One last glance was spared on her, met with a light blue iris. There was nothing to say. They didn't know each other, and it wasn't like he was obligated to say "bye" or something. She was just intoxicated, too high to look after herself. So he had been forced to watch her. Yeah. Breaking eye contact, Takasugi started across the garden. He could feel the girl watching him as he opened the door to the building, yet refrained from looking back. He had done her a favor.

It was beneficial for him as well, of course. She got to live and he never had to deal with her again. He wasn't a babysitter. He couldn't waste his time looking after some teenaged brat that didn't know her own limits.

Moreover, somebody had to live to tell the story, right? To warn others about getting on his bad side. Whisper about how terrifying he was, even when she was positive that only the person she was speaking to could hear. That would be her.

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**Okay, that's a start right? Those of you that read "Black Silk", please, feel free to tell me how you feel about this. Whether you thought the last story was better, or if this one looks more interesting. And hey, you don't even have to know anything about that story. If you can, drop me a line or review, I'd love to hear your opinions. A coverpic will come soon, hopefully. Also, I've got to give props to Noniebee (4352183) for inspiring me to write again and encouraging me. She had some great ideas about events and scenes and even named this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thank you all for reading.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: It's Takasugi's birthday! So, in honor of such an awesome day, here's a new chapter. Enjoy!**

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A single drop of liquid splattered centimeters below an eye. As soon as the girl stepped into the building and closed the glass door behind herself, it hit her. She raised a hand to her cheek, brushing at the water. Disembodied limbs and pieces of what she assumed to have once made humans littered the wooden floor around her. The walls were smeared with blood. It was brutality at its finest. Somehow, someway, everybody that had been inside when she left had been murdered.

That meant no tips. No payment and no sneaking fancy foods fresh from the kitchen. When she pulled her hand from her cheek, her fingertips were coated in a film of scarlet. Slowly, she tilted her head back, and again a sliver of blood landed under her right eye, which instinctively closed.

It was even on the ceiling.

Moments like these made her detest humans. For being vulnerable or vengeful. Either side of the scale was a loss. On one side, a person could live their entire life, doing things. Having children, partying, being rude or as kind as they pleased. They could live their entire lives, unaware of how it would end. Then something like this would happen. They would wind up sprawled on the ground, nothing more than a mass of flesh and blood, not even covering their organs. The scent and spray of blood hung in the air, faint particles suspended in a mist that the girl had no choice but to walk through. For some reason, humans smelled horribly, once sliced in half.

They weren't exactly pretty, either, but it was the smell that gripped her stomach. Warm and putrid, as if somebody had boiled excrement and iron supplements. Arms waved to her from the ground, unmoving, but demanding her attention nonetheless. Did she look like that on the inside too? Was there anything that she could do, or eat to prevent her innards from smelling so dreadfully? It didn't seem likely. If anybody knew about things like that, it would be rich people.

All things aside, she was faced with a real problem now.

She was over ten miles from town, stranded in a building with nothing but dismembered rich people. And fancy finger food.

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Just as Takasugi closed the passenger door behind himself, he turned to his two companions. Both were wiping their faces and exposed flesh with towels. Kawakami removed his shades and turned to the side to clear the lenses. Following procedure, Takasugi pulled his own towel from under his seat and started on his face. Nothing could be done about the wraps of his forehead and eye for now. The engine purred to life as Kawakami replaced his sunglasses and turned the key. Just as the teal-haired man started to lower the emergency break, the group froze.

A police car, running full code, whizzed down the road opposite of them. All focused on the car, watching to make sure that it wasn't turning around. Pulling out so suddenly would only draw attention, especially if there were more. Ever so carefully, the teal-haired man shifted into first gear and crept towards the road; clearly watching for more cops. A slight pause later, they were leaving. Far gone. There was no way they were getting caught for something like that. Most likely, it would be labeled as a drug deal gone bad and represented as an attack on rich people. Which, technically, it was, but really, it wasn't.

As they were stopped at an intersection, Kawakami broke the silence.

"That cop saw our car. We need to get it repainted and altered enough to look different."

Takasugi's eye was trained on the transparent reflection beside him. It was still relatively early in the day. The dark-haired man barely shifted in his seat, sighing as he tore his gaze from passing traffic.

"Bansai-senpai's right. What if there were security cameras outside? Or, inside..." Matako was the next to weigh in on the matter, her voice falling as she reasoned aloud. Finally turning around, Takasugi glanced back at the blonde, motioning to the glove compartment.

"Relax, I took care of that already. As for the car, what do you suggest?" The man's eye wandered to his friend and the light in front of them changed, allowing a right turn. Though he couldn't see it, Takasugi knew Kawakami glanced towards him for a split second before pulling towards the middle of the road.

"Amagi's got a shop around here." As he raised up in his seat, Kawakami threw the car in reverse and gazed out of the back window, navigating into an alley. He honked the horn three times, and Takasugi studied their surroundings. This seemed like some sort of place he should know about. Especially if it was so secretive. He recalled being told that his business partner had a shop, but nothing of its location, or passwords to get inside. Moments passed, and Takasugi wondered if they were in the right place.

Wondered how Kawakami knew about the shop, or where they would go if this didn't work. Honking while parked in an alley wasn't exactly normal. Fingertips drummed along the steering wheel, heightening the one-eyed man's initial anxiety. His gaze trailed to Kawakami's hands, one tightly gripped the wheel, the other continued to tap. The only other sound was breathing. Matako was breathing. Kawakami was breathing. Even his own breaths were almost annoyingly loud.

And then there was a metal snap. The garage door beside them jerked, and started to slowly raise, exposing a dimly lit mechanical shop. The car was thrown into reverse, and they swerved backwards and into the garage. All three members of the group were snatched forward as Kawakami hit the brakes and killed the engine. The garage door eased closed, and as suddenly as it had opened, every trace of outside light in front of them was killed. To their left, another door allowed traces of natural sun in, collecting in blocks on the concrete.

"Come on," Kawakami sighed as he spoke, audibly releasing tension with the breath. He pushed his door open, composed, as usual. It was understandable, for the man to have felt on edge. It wasn't every day that the group took care of issues on their own. Other people served them well, playing as pawns and acting out Takasugi's will without understanding. Usually, they believed that they were doing what they please, but it was always what he desired. Never a single step outside of his plan, or they would suffer the fate of his previous business acquaintances; left to decorate the walls with their innards.

The dim light revealed that vines had started to creep into the shop. They has eased up a wall and through a broken window, stuck to brick and draped to the floor. As they stepped out of the car, a man in a suit descended the stairs. No time was needed to recognize him as his face cracked into his usual grin.

"Kawakami-san, Takasugi-san, and-"

"Kijima," Matako offered.

The man nodded and reached the trio, lightly bowing to the men. He warmly placed a hand on Matako's shoulder and pressed his cheek to hers in a silent air-kiss, which she was puzzled by. It was awkward, to be the subject of some stranger's odd display of affection. All she could do was stand there and try to hold a straight face. He didn't look gay. He also didn't sound gay.

But that was clearly a gay action.

"Kijima-san, nice to meet you! Call me Amagi. What can I do for you all?" Stepping back, the man flashed another winning smile.

Takasugi leaned back against their car as Kawakami took hold of the conversation.

"We need another color. Maybe some different tires..." The request droned on and Takasugi studied the shop. A motorcycle was perched close to a wall, next to a large toolbox. Around the top of the garage, a metal landing surrounded the walls. An open office door was above, warm light seeping through the doorway. There was another car, suspended with no tires. Dry oil stains speckled the floor, as well as an occasional chip from a tool. The scent of cement was in the air, crisp and damp. Not unlike fresh rain, which was still guaranteed for days to come.

"Alright, we can do that. How long do you have?" Tucking a lock of chestnut hair behind his ear, Amagi crossed his arms. He looked like a poet. That was the only way Takasugi could think to describe him. An oval faced, rich kid (despite age) with jaw-length tousled hair. At times, he would pull it back into a ponytail; revealing a single pearlescent streak that started just above his right temple.

"Couple hours." Kawakami shrugged as he spoke and mirrored the crossed arms of his business partner. "How much are you charging?" At the mention of pay, Amagi batted his hand towards the group and rolled his eyes.

"Right, 'cause I'd make a friend pay me." Shaking his head, Amagi snorted to himself as if it was actually humorous. Either way, he called to a few guys and instructed them to strip and paint, as well as inspect and fix whatever they could. It was as if they had driven right into a beauty salon for their vehicle. By the time it was finished being pampered, they wouldn't recognize it.

In the same breath, the three were invited to the office upstairs; offered tea and champagne to pass the time. It was worth it. Amagi didn't even bother to question the blood on their clothes. He suggested a shower and offered to have somebody fetch something in their sizes, if they liked. In other words, he was drowning them in humbleness, and Takasugi didn't like it one bit. It was suspicious, to say the least.

He didn't remember being on such good terms with the man before. When people suddenly became caring, or overly helpful, they wanted something, and Takasugi wasn't in the mood for bargaining. He just wanted to get shit over with and go home. It had been a long day.

"I'm actually just watching the shop for today. You're lucky I was here, otherwise, I doubt you'd get such good treatment." As he was serving champagne, Amagi grinned to himself. Why there was champagne in a car garage was beyond Takasugi. Bubbly wasn't exactly his cup of tea; he wanted the actual tea, and he made it known. In the end, only Matako had accepted champagne, while Kawakami and Takasugi stuck with sobriety. Fair enough, actually. Matako didn't deal with negotiations.

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Just as Amagi started to go into detail of his timely authority over the shop, and kill them with extended boring conversation, a raising garage door interrupted him.

He perked up, surprise melted into a large grin as he offered insight.

"That must be my mechanic. Early, actually." The moment he finished speaking, an engine revved and a car screeched to a halt, clearly driven by an emotionally unstable person, or an adrenaline junkie. It stayed on, as the door was thrown open, garage door left up as well. Behind the door, Takasugi could see a gravel drive way and patches of grass, a front entrance, compared to Kawakami's method. Natural white light illuminated the room as the person slammed the car door and Amagi quickly moved to the doorway to greet them.

"You're early!" Clearly delighted, the man waved to his angry counterpart. A woman's voice muttered back, confirming his allegation. Glances were exchanged between Takasugi and his group. The additional person put them on guard. It didn't matter if it was a friend of a partner, they didn't know if they could trust this person.

"Chop it up! I had to wire it."

The footsteps were drawing nearer, and Takasugi met Kawakami's gaze, perfectly still as Amagi scooped the woman into a hug, still murmuring about how early she was and some other shit he didn't care to hear. The moment he stepped aside and Takasugi got a good look at the female he wasn't sure if he should be defensive or act as if he knew nothing. It wasn't a woman at all, it was a girl.

More specifically, it was the girl from the courtyard. Takasugi slowly turned his head, trying to figure how he would handle this. If she talked, or if he had to stop her before she could. Kawakami was frowning at him, clearly aware of his reaction, but Takasugi couldn't possibly tell him. No, he much preferred to keep his eye on the table and think of every possible solution. In the background, the room started to flash, possibly a welding machine. Amagi focused on the source of the light, but the girl covered his eyes with her hand. Matako eyed at the girl, aware that she was coldly staring at Takasugi.

She didn't like it one bit.

"Don't stare at it, your cornea will burn out."

"Of course," Amagi chuckled, grasping the girl's hand and pulling her into the room. "Come sit with us, I'd like you to meet a very important friend."

Much to Takasugi's dismay, the girl was brought to sit with them. She commanded Amagi to sit, and pulled a dingy gray suite from the wall. With a sigh, she pulled the loose gray outfit over herself, covering an all black combination of tights and a tank top. That done, she moved to Amagi and took her place, draped across his lap.

It was an odd sight, a delicate-looking girl dressed like a scrubby mechanic and seated on poet-man. Her hair was a dead give-away, leaving no doubt in Takasugi's mind. The black and blonde streaks were obvious; identical. This was the high girl. She was there. Staring back at him with a knowing expression. And nobody else understood what was happening.

"Ki, this is Takasugi-san, a business partner. And Kawakami-san," He motioned to each as he named them. "And Matako-san. Everybody, this is Inoue-"

"Kinu." The girl corrected, and Amagi nodded, grinning.

"This is my fiancé, Kinu. She's the owner of this shop, and the best mechanic in Edo." As Amagi spoke, he nuzzled into the girl's shoulder. She showed no sign of acknowledgment. Not a glance, not a moved muscle, or even a hint at returning his affection.

"Not all of Edo..." Still, the compliment persisted, and the chestnut haired man squeezed his fiancé close, questioning her early return. Her gaze flicked over the trio, and settled on the door as she muttered. "There was an... accident."

She had covered. She hadn't said anything. But maybe it was because he was in the room. Takasugi wasn't sure about this girl. She was acting oddly, not making expressions, and barely speaking loud enough to be audible. It wasn't until Amagi peered up at the girl and took a blond strand of hair between his fingers, that Takasugi knew, he was going to have to shut this girl up. A dark splotch of red had coated the hair, and Takasugi watched as Amagi's expression flickered from puzzlement to panic.

"Is this..? Were you hurt? Are you bleeding?" All eyes were on the couple as Amagi examined his fiancé, looking for a wound or any hint of injury. She simply stared at him from the corner of her eyes as he raised her hands to inspect and pushed her hair around her neck. Another moment passed, and Takasugi exchanged glances with his teal-haired friend. It looked like nobody knew what to say.

"I'm _fine_." Eventually, the girl batted the hands from her face. She pushed herself to her feet, still unreadable in every sense of the word. "What are the guys doing?"

"Well, my friend here," Again, Amagi motioned to Takasugi's group across the table. "Needs a new color, a tune up and some new wheels."

Deciding to step in, Kawakami nodded in agreement.

"Yes. I dare say that we can pay you well," He was clearly on the same page as Takasugi. They didn't need charity, and didn't want to give Amagi anything to hold over their heads.

"No, no, payment isn't necessary. They only have a few hours, Ki." Amagi cut in, not fond of anybody else directly speaking to the girl. She froze for a moment, processing the exchange. Kinu straightened up, shoulders squared, balance shifted, as her jaw went tight. A clear crease of her brow let on to her reaction, and Takasugi's group remained silent. Just taking it all in.

"A few hours?" The girl repeated, her eyes narrowed behind her bangs. She tilted her head towards the group, well aware that they were drinking as much information as they could. Amagi nodded, grinning at the girl.

"You're giving away _my _services for _free_, and telling me to have a car repainted, tuned up, with a new pair of tires, in a few _hours_?" Still grinning, Amagi nodded. "That's not even _possible_. It takes at least _five _days to _repaint _a- no, _I'm not doing this right now_. You know what?"

Finally, the man's grin disappeared. The girl walked to a square of hooks on a backdrop and pulled a key from the wall. She turned to the group at the table and tossed the key towards them. Though unexpected, Takasugi managed to catch said key, just as Matako ducked out of the way. The girl, Kinu, walked to the table and crossed her arms, eying Takasugi's group as she motioned to the door.

"It's gonna take a week. One week. I'll tune it up, get everything working like new. What color were you thinking?"

Takasugi turned to Kawakami, and the man shrugged. "Doesn't matter." The one-eyed man confirmed.

Nodding, Kinu kept her eyes trained on Takasugi. He was completely calm, from what she could tell. If she didn't know any better, she would think they had never met before. Officially speaking, that should be true. But he did kill her high, along with everybody else at that party. Forcing her to hotwire a car and drive while she was too blazed to think was hardly a good impression.

"Get whatever you need out of your car. Those keys are to the silver jeep outside. Take the jeep, bring it back to get your car."

Kawakami started to stand, triggering a reverse-domino effect in his companions. When all three were on their feet, the deaf man picked up the conversation again.

"I dare say we don't mind paying; especially if you're doing all that work."

Shaking her head, Kinu glanced over the group again. Amagi had remained in his seat, watching the interaction unfold from the sidelines. He clearly knew nothing about how cars worked, or the price of repair or cover services.

"Already paid in full. Now, get out of here, and let me get to work." As cold as it sounded, the girl actions suggested the exact opposite of her tone. She left the room after that, not sparing another word or glance. Finally, Amagi stood up, his smile replenished.

"Well, you heard the lady!" Another light laugh sounded, and Takasugi glanced back at Amagi. Right. Kawakami exchanged pleasantries with the man; thanked him and whatnot. It was expected, Takasugi was never one for concerning himself with such things. More than anything, he wondered how an airhead like Amagi had ended up with a young, possibly teenage, mechanic. She didn't seem as absent minded as him. Takasugi wondered is the girl was aware of Amagi's dealings and "businesses".

From where he stood at the top of the stairs, she didn't much look like a lady; elbows deep in an engine.

It was probably the money. Amagi was rich, he could buy just about any woman, or house. Could waste millions on jewelry, and not raise a finger or think twice about his finances; he wasn't making it himself.

Matako was hot of his heels, followed by Kawakami. They reached the bottom of the stairs and proceeded to retrieve any belongings from their car. After grabbing everything, Kawakami stopped at the girl's side, murmuring to her. Takasugi's gaze wandered to the top of the stairs, and he wasn't surprised to see Amagi there; watching. Not smiling, or emitting his usual friendly aura.

There was something wrong with that guy.

A tug of his kimono snapped Takasugi's attention forward. Matako was peering up at him, cheerful.

"Shinsuke-sama, we'll be left behind if you don't pay attention."

He nodded once, and allowed the woman to lead him after Kawakami, of whom was already following the girl to a car outside. Gravel crunched under their feet, as much as the damp ground would allow, and Takasugi broke apart from Matako to claim the back seat behind Kawakami. The teal haired man was still murmuring to Kinu, already behind the wheel. Upon noticing Takasugi's presence, he glanced back with a smile, and both dropped their conversation, focused on him.

If that wasn't awkward enough, Kawakami closed the door, and the girl continued to stare up at the one-eyed man.

"We're even, now." Kinu's right hand was extended, and Takasugi stared at the girl's grease smudged skin. He didn't really want to touch that. It looked icky. Not that he was bothered by it, but he'd rather stick his hand in intestines instead of- "Don't be a pansy, come on."

Had she seriously just accused him of being a pansy? That was ridiculous. Unheard of. He could shake hands if he wanted. He just didn't want to. The man raised his hand, but didn't get any closer. This was possibly suspicious in itself. He was taking so long to get in the car. Then the man felt a pair of eyes on him. Not the crystal blue gaze of the girl, but a pair of cold steel eyes from within the shop. Amagi was watching like a hawk. He had to shake the greasy hand. And he did. Their hands clasped, and a light bow was offered, nothing too formal, nothing too lax.

After that he was free to go. The girl walked away, and Takasugi stared at the black smudge of his hand. It wasn't much, not as bad as he'd expected, but still. Either way, the man got into the car, and found himself homebound. It seemed he'd made the right decision after all.


	3. Chapter 3

Surrounded by a white tiled room that was quickly filling with steam, Takasugi gathered all of his usual toiletries. Soap that faintly smelled of freshly cracked pepper and dark spice. Upon finally ridding himself of the bloodstained rags that he once called clothes, Takasugi made a discovery. Somehow, someway, he had completely forgotten to rid himself of the notebook that the girl had dropped. When she had fallen, he had scooped it up as he assisted her in finding her balance and a more suitable place to avoid being slaughtered.

The task had required two hands, hence the reason that he tucked the book into his kimono; where he usually kept anything he was reading. Not for extended periods, of course, but just lounging around the house. It had become a habit, and he had overlooked the fact that it was there for hours. And now he had this book; a thin, black journal. Filled with a stranger's thoughts and ideas.

He stared at it as the minutes ticked by. The bathroom steadily filled with steam, and Takasugi contemplated the curiosity he held between his fingertips. He could read it. Nobody would know. But that girl had his car; and eventually, she could remember that he had picked it up. It was possible, that she already knew. If he didn't read it, he would still catch hell trying to make her believe him. Well, if he returned it, that is. Then again, he had no obligation to do such.

With that in mind, if she already knew or remembered, she would be expecting it back. If he didn't return it, she could fuck up his car.

By the time water collected on his skin, a byproduct of the steam, Takasugi realized that he needed to focus on cleaning himself. He could worry about the notebook later. There were plenty of ways to return it. He could mail it, or leave it in the car she had loaned him. He could leave it at her shop, without a word, or directly approach her. For the time being, Takasugi knew that he should place the book outside, in a drier environment, lest the ink bleed from the pages before he could decide upon reading, or not reading, its contents.

Just like that, the book was forgotten. Occasionally, it flicked into his mind to nag him with possible secrets, or an interesting story. His gaze would wander to it as he passed the black journal, which rested on a small table in his room. Each time he thought he had settled down, or had a moment to peek into the book, he was called away to take care of something. Every night, when he passed the book on his way to his bed, he decided to check it out the next day.

Up until it was time to return the van he had been loaned, and retrieve his car. He would send Kawakami, of course. No need for him to take care of something so menial. Kawakami could return the book, and he would be done with it. Takasugi felt the date approach, and the night before his car was ready, he finally laid down with the book; ready to find all of the dirty laundry he could. He cracked the book open, eying the angular handwriting as he flipped to the latest entry and started to read.

"Love is not important.  
"That's what everybody says. Neither is intelligence, or age. Not when it comes to marriage. All of those things come after you say your vows. It doesn't matter, if you're scared. It's selfish, to be unhappy, when you get everything you need. Dresses, food, books. Anything you ask for. Love is for selfish people. Nobody loves before marriage. The important thing is that your family is taken care of. You have no right to be unhappy.

"All you have to do is smile, and be polite. It is impolite to slouch, or mumble. Impolite to hum, instead of speaking. Not getting the grease out of your fingernails is bad; just like not greeting somebody when they come home, or telling them to have a good day when they leave. It is not acceptable, to wear a suit to a party, or pretend to be sick to get out of one. Because then, the doctor comes. And he always tells on you, if you're in good health.

"You are not allowed to complain. Everybody is happy for you."

Takasugi was unable to fight the furrow of his brows a he turned the page. This didn't sound like Amagi's secrets, or inside "fiancé" information at all. If anything, it was too honest. Almost surreal. How could somebody live like this? It didn't sound like this girl wanted the engagement. If anything, he would guess that it was arranged, or forced. Still, his eye couldn't stop drinking the words. The unfamiliar perspective ensnared him and refused to release him until the last word.

"As long as the kittens are taken care of, you should be happy, too. If they have scratching posts that look like something you want to sleep in; don't fall for it. That is also impolite. Maybe he will learn to like them, and help name them. Maybe after marriage, he will love you. He will eat the strawberries out of your fruit salad, and give you his oranges, or pineapple, instead.

"It doesn't matter if he yells at you. If he isn't satisfied, or hits you. It's all okay. Because your family is happy, and that's all that counts. Because you are taken care of, and that makes him generous. You should thank him, instead of sitting there; holding your jaw or whatever you feel like you need to hold. Because he's there to hold you, and you should not be held unless he says so.

"That is why love is unimportant, right now. After the engagement, the announcement, everything will get better. When you're a wife, you'll be treated like one. Happy. So instead of acting depressed, or not getting out of bed, You should remember that you're grateful. Remember that you're excited, and blessed to call a man like him your fiancé.

"When you put on your ring, or the jewelry he buys you, you should smile and thank him, even if he can't hear you. Because you're happy, and you love him. When you're like this, you can think straight. So you should stay this way. Fighting makes no sense. If he-"

That was the end.

She had stopped writing mid-sentence, because he had interrupted her. He wished he hadn't. And he was overwhelmed. By an unfamiliar feeling, something he didn't like, and hoped would pass soon. Just like that, he didn't want to read anymore. He didn't want to see another word, hastily scribbled on a blank page to convince the girl that she was happy. To tell her that she was in a regular relationship, and had no right to question it.

It was obvious, that she had been hit; possibly more than once. She didn't know him the way Takasugi did. The one-eyed man was all too familiar with the Amagi family; all underhanded thieves. Aside from a corporation, they ran whorehouses and passed them down as if they were a family affair. But Takasugi didn't know anything about their intimate relationships. He never cared.

The man closed the book, still deep in contemplation. If this was assumed to be the standard diary to an Amagi betrothed, he wasn't sure of what to think. It was pure chance that he spared the girl. Maybe it was for the worst. If he had killed her, like everybody else, she wouldn't have been writing something so morose. Self-hypnotization at its finest. She wasn't going to be happy, or appreciated. Not by her family, if they had put her up to this, or by her soon-to-be husband.

And who the hell didn't like kittens?

The journal was placed on his nightstand, to remind him to return it with her van, and Takasugi willed himself to sleep, in spite of his racing mind.

Maybe he should have killed her too?

* * *

On that day, Takasugi spent a while, contemplating whether he would return the book when he went.

But he hadn't been able to read it all. Days had been spent speculating the journal's contents. What more could there be? Stories? Secrets? Maybe something more that he could have on Amagi? Why was the girl writing in it while she was working? It could be something important, and he didn't want to miss it.

Therefore, Takasugi resolved to keep it for one more week. Just until he skimmed through the rest of the notebook. Learned what he could about an occasional business partner. It sounded fair enough.

Mid-afternoon, Takasugi arrived at the shop, sans journal. He pulled the van into the same spot it had been a week before, and left the vehicle; key in hand. The garage door was wide open, not a soul in sight. Takasugi entered the shop, met with damp, cool air; the work of the concrete slab beneath his feet. Off to the side, He caught sight of a silver car; not much different from his old vehicle. It seemed to be the same model, but the interior was different. Leather. The car was freshly polished and seemed to sparkle; even out of the sun.

"You're early."

Takasugi glanced over his shoulder for a split second as the girl from before approached. She silently descended the metal stairs, hand glided over the rail as she moved.

"Did you expect me to be late?"

"If I did?" Flatly murmuring the words, the girl stopped by his side. A moment of mutual silence passed, only to be broken by a hum.

"So? Impressed?" Takasugi offered no reply. He started to circle the vehicle; studying each detail as he moved. This girl didn't look like the person that had written what he had read. She seemed bleak and emotionless. Like somebody that would have elegant, loopy handwriting. Maybe even paint her nails.

She wasn't in her "work uniform". Instead, the girl wore jeans and a long sleeved shirt. Fitting, for the temperature of the shop.

"Fishing for compliments?" The key to the van was tossed her way, almost catching her off guard. Again, a hum met the man. He glanced up at the girl across the car, catching a cerulean eye for a moment.

"You changed the interior?"

"It wasn't suited for blood. Leather can be cleaned properly, cloth will absorb."

Takasugi nodded once, stopping at the back of the car as he eyed the shining break lights. She had gone all out on it.

Kawakami was supposed to do this. He had decided to send the deaf man in his stead, but curiosity had bested him. He wanted to see the girl that had written that journal. To look at her, for what she was; whatever that may be. And she still didn't look the part.

"And this as all free?" He questioned, walking back to the girl's side.

"Do you _want _me to charge you?" She crossed her arms, meeting his olive eye with a deadpan tilt of her head.

"You can't answer a _question _with a _question_."

"Hm." As if she had suddenly lost interest in the interaction, the girl started back towards the stairs. She didn't look back. Walked straight into the office, only to return with a pair of keys. They were thrown from the upper floor, tossed with precision and caught with a clap of Takasugi's hands.

"Stay away from my husband."

"Excuse me?" Takasugi eyed the girl above, well aware of the tense atmosphere. He was clearly unwanted; unwelcomed.

"Are you deaf? Stay away from my husband." The girl paused again and leaned onto the rail of the indoor balcony. All the while, she remained free of expression. The only visible change in her features was a slightly furrowed brow. "He may be involved in a lot of things, but murder isn't one of them. He doesn't need you to influence him. I'll fix your car whenever you need, free of charge, as long as you leave him alone. Got it?"

This was already ridiculous. If Takasugi wanted to be lectured, he would have smoked in the kitchen while Kawakami as cooking. The one-eyed man turned to his car and unlocked the door. His senses were assaulted with leather; a brand-new car smell. He sank into the driver's seat, suppressing a sigh as he did. Kinu was just as annoying as he had imagined.

"Do you think you're in the position to order me around?"

A moment passed and the girl leaned up, still watching him from the banister.

"Do you like your 'new' car?"

He wasn't getting anywhere with her. Honestly, Takasugi wondered what he had expected. It wasn't like he actually knew the girl, but it sounded like he had a new, affordable mechanic. He closed the door beside him, and started the car; finished with the conversation. The engine purred to life with a renewed vigor to carry him home. On the first try, at that.

Oh, yes. He loved his new car. It hadn't choked or wheezed yet, and it smelled delightful.

With nothing more to say, Takasugi pulled the car out of neutral and glided out of the garage.


	4. Chapter 4

The aroma of dark coffee wafted through the traditional wooden walls of the Kiheitai hide out. Not that they ever did any actual hiding. Takasugi sat at the kitchen table, mug in hand. His feet were propped on a chair beside him, and his attention was fixed on a small TV on the counter, no less than a meter away. A news broadcast had interrupted the weather report, just before they could claim that the dreary clouds would dissipate.

A catchy tune took over, and the screen flashed to a woman in a bright yukata. In her hands, a microphone was sported just over her chest. Behind the newscaster, bright yellow police tape was in place, and uniform-clad Shinsengumi members crawled over the familiar scene like cockroaches; searching for crumbs of evidence.

"Breaking news; just hours ago, the owner of this dinner hall returned from a trip out of town to check on the condition of it after having rented it out for an elite party." The brunette tightened her grasp on the microphone and leaned towards the camera. A tight frown twisted her face as she raised one hand as if to present the scene over her shoulder. "When he entered the building, he was horrified to find a bloody murder scene. Nobody ever left the party; they're all still here, over a week later, but nobody is partying anymore."

The terse tone dropped off as the woman straightened her posture; eyes still on the camera.

"We have an exclusive interview with the building's owner. For safety reasons, he requested to remain anonymous, so we've altered his voice and changed his name." A sharp nod to the cameraman preceded a change of screen. In a dark room, a shadowed figure sat perfectly still.

"Uh," The voice was high-pitched, too skewed to recognize. Broad shoulders and a rounded head could be made out, indicating that it was a bald male. "I thought it was strange that there were still a bunch of cars outside, but when I opened the door..." The man's mismatched speech broke off for a moment, as he seemed to collect himself. His silhouette moved; fanning him as he resituated himself in his seat. "It smelled like rotting meat. There were flies everywhere, and limbs... The walls were covered in blood, and it was completely silent. Nobody got out. And I just keep thinking..."

Again, the man paused; possibly to add drama in the form of a long gasp of breath.

"Who's going to clean all of this up?" At that point, the man broke down; shoulders heaving as he sobbed into his hands. Forms ran to his side to hug and comfort as the screen flashed back to the live broadcast; newscaster standing off to the side smoking a cigarette as she disinterestedly peered at the working cops behind her.

A few low whispers and snaps of unseen fingers drew her attention, and she gawked at the camera, asking in an equally low tone. "Are we back on?"

No answer could be heard, but the woman abandoned her cigarette and skittered back into her previous position, only to be interrupted before she could begin.

"Oi! Littering on a crime scene? Are you trying to taint out evidence?!" A man in a Shinsengumi uniform came into view, his hand immediately covered the lens of the camera. Through the cracks of his fingers, raven hair could be glimpsed, as well as a cigarette; hovering mid-air.

"What?! Are you serious?!"

"Damn right I'm serious! I saw that! You're gonna have to come with me for questioning!" The camera was wrestled away as the officer proceeded to retrieve his handcuffs. The newscaster protested the entire time, clearly startled.

"No, you're making a mistake! This is for the news, I'm on right now!"

"We'll determine that when your alibi comes back clear."

"What?! Alibi?!"

The screen flashed black and silently counted down from five. At that point, Takasugi spent a second to strike a match and light his pipe as the screen returned to the crime scene. Two men stood in front of the camera, frowning. One was the officer from before, gunmetal blue eyes fixed on the camera and still smoking his cigarette. Beside him, a shorter, crimson-eyed officer stood. Together, they skeptically peered into the camera; in stark contrast of one another.

"You think it's legit?" The raven-haired man asked. Over his shoulder, the newscaster from before could be seen sitting on the ground; hands cuffed behind her back.

"This is outrageous!" She was saying, loud enough for her voice to be a constant in the background. "I want to talk to my lawyer!"

"It looks real, but spy technology is getting better every day..." The sandy haired officer responded. Under the men, a red banner appeared; presenting their names and positions. Vice-commander Hijikata Toushiro, and First Division Captain Okita Sougo.

Again, the screen blanked, and Takasugi glanced downward, smirking to himself. The Shinsengumi were unmatchably idiotic. Downright stupid, at times. Nothing beat watching them pick up the pieces of his trail, only to throw themselves into a concrete wall. Every time. The one-eyed man took a drag of his tobacco, shaking his head as the urge to snicker nagged him from within. A cloud of smoke parted his lips as the screen flashed back to the news. A new woman was standing in front of the camera; microphone in hand. At her side, stood the Commander of the Shinsengumi, Isao Kondo.

Behind the pair, the vice commander was pulling the previous newscaster from her sitting position on the ground. She struggled against him, kicking and shouting the entire time. Despite her display, she was forced into the back of a police car.

"The Commander of the Shinsengumi has stated that he already has an idea of what happened at the party. I'm sure you're curious to hear what he thinks could have caused the brutal murder of over a dozen prestigious members of society."

The microphone was offered to the commander and he nodded once. A solemnly stern gaze turned to the camera as Kondo cleared his throat.

"After examining the scene, I believe we've found some conclusive evidence. There was an apron in the backyard; covered in blood. According to the body count, one person, a waitress is missing. We haven't found a weapon yet, leading us to believe that this is the result of poison. We're collecting food samples, and we'll know as soon as the lab results get back." The man thoughtfully placed a hand to his chin;

The newscaster nodded and stared up at the man; obviously not seeing the flaw in his logic.

Unable to help himself, Takasugi released the laugh that had been building within him the entire time. His palm slid down the side of his face, moving with his shaking head as he attempted to discourage the outburst. He couldn't hear the TV over his own voice. Poison? That was the best they could do? Was this a satire? Surely, this wasn't serious. Just as Takasugi sank back into his chair, a murmur could be heard.

Kawakami entered the kitchen as the man brought his pipe to his mouth. The deaf man was on the phone, too busy to scold Takasugi for having his feet on a chair, or smoking in the kitchen. Instead, he acted as if he didn't even see the one-eyed man, and moved to the counter and leaned against it. He crossed his arms as he tilted his head downward, a clear motion to Takasugi.

"Yeah."

Takasugi tapped the metal mouthpiece of his pipe with his canines, barely listening to the TV as he watched Kawakami. The Shinsengumi claimed that the only motive they could find was a missing car.

"When?" Kawakami murmured, glancing towards Takasugi. The conversation dragged on and lost all of Takasugi's interest. By the time it ended on a positive note, he was focused on the TV again. The Shinsengumi were always entertaining.

When Kawakami hung up, he finally called Takasugi out for smoking in the kitchen. Not that the one-eyed man cared. He didn't bother to listen until the subject changed.

"Shinsuke, we've been invited to Amagi's birthday."

"Okay." Takasugi shrugged. His gaze wandered back to the TV, only for a moment before Kawakami continued.

"A lot of his other partners are going to be there, so we need to treat this as a business party."

Again, Takasugi repeated himself, less than interested. Despite his nonchalant approach, the deaf man remained at his side spouting details and formalities.

"It's black tie, suits only. He's going to announce his engagement, so we need to bring a gift; nothing big. And we have a meeting with him in a few days... What have I told you about smoking in the kitchen, it's not-"

"-sanitary, I have plenty of other rooms to do it in." Beating the man to the point, Takasugi grabbed the remote and turned the TV off. He stood up and waved over his shoulder as he took his leave. "We eat in here, and chairs are no place for my feet. Formalities, manners, rules, blah blah blah." The one-eyed man could feel his friend's gaze on his back. He didn't bother to look as he left the kitchen and started towards his room, but Kawakami called out behind him.

"Shinsuke, Amagi has invited you to an Amanto match tomorrow. I think it's business; he hinted at some things that he might need."

"Things?" Glancing over his shoulder, Takasugi watched as his friend pulled a chair from the kitchen table and set post in front of the TV.

"Yeah, guns, swords; knowing him, it'll be a big deal."

As if the conversation was officially over, Kawakami turned the TV on and leaned back in his chair. A clear signal that while there was a choice, only one answer was right.

* * *

Another night was spent skimming through the journal on his nightstand. Much to his dismay, Takasugi didn't find anything juicy. If a forced marriage wasn't something to be considered juicy, that is. There weren't any actual stories, and only a sparse amount of diary entries. Everything was in the form of short notes, of messages to the writer herself. There was an occasional poem, small reminders, sketches. Shopping lists, scribbles, pointers on utensil layout, and when it was "appropriate" to use chopsticks.

Just a random journal. Some pages were filled with nothing but vocabulary words and definitions. Puns and jokes, which Takasugi found himself snickering over.

There were only three large entries, including the one from before. He carefully read the last; almost feeling the need to brace himself for more pitiful "girl" emotions.

"Hate you all. Every last one of you. You don't take me seriously. All I have to do is smile. All I have to do is 'hold still' while a maid 'puts on my face'. My face is already here; it doesn't come off.

"I want you to go away. I want to go away. But I'll stay, just long enough to watch you die. Marry you to spite you. You'll be stuck with 'the gloomy girl' until you keel over. I hate you. The way you laugh, and act like you own everything. You don't even know what it's like to work. You can't appreciate how hard I've worked to open my shop. Tell me to quit school and be a house wife.

"Everybody says I'm lucky. They say I'm over thinking everything, but they're under thinking."

Oh, this was getting good. Almost dramatic. Talk about a page turner. Takasugi did just that, flipped the page as he eyed the words. It was great. He felt like he was breaking a rule; peeking into somebody's diary. Aside from the adrenaline rush, his interest had been piqued. A lot of hate for a sarcastic, annoying little girl. It was always the ones that nobody expected. The scribbled words screamed up at him. Each character charged with the rawest emotion he could fathom. Hate? Distress?

The girl wasn't exactly a damsel; as far as Takasugi was concerned, damsels didn't exactly parade around in baggy, grease coated jumpsuits. He snickered to himself at the thought of the girl trapped in an impossibly tall tower. Dressed as a princess and waiting for help. Her hair wasn't long enough for the part, though.

"I am lucky. Because I've learned just how stupid they all are. Learned to hate that slow blink he does right before he tells me to stop talking or asks me to define something. Every time he calls me a commoner and laughs. It's just hilarious, isn't it? Such a _catch_. Such a _charmer_. Even the maids hike their skirts up around him because _'that boring girl doesn't stand a chance'_.

"I will destroy him. He'll regret the day that he picked me, or laughed when he said that men don't care about brains. They may not, but I'll be the last one to laugh. Just as soon as he comes near me while I'm holding a wrench.

"All I have to do is smile. I need to be pretty, sociable and nice. I must be interested, every time somebody talks about the _'golden years', _and entertain crowds, no matter how badly I claim to need to leave. Even if it is just an excuse to slam my head against the wall in private. Better than shoving it up my ass. Just smile. Learn to be happy, and embrace it all.

"I am happy. And so angry I can't even feel. I can't even remember if I ever could. I was the same before. Every time he asks me to stay over, I die a little. Never. I will never sleep in his bed. He is disgusting. Everybody is disgusting.

"I wish I could say that I would explode, but I wouldn't know how. It doesn't even feel like I'm bottling anything up. Completely hollow. One day, I will speak.

"I am positive that one day, somebody will see through that act. They'll call me out, and get my jokes. If I'm lucky, they'll take me somewhere that doesn't have a dress code. They'll make me laugh, and break down every wall I've built to keep them away. Then they'll disappear. I'll never see them again, and wonder where they went. But I'll be happy."

Conflicting. That was the only word to describe these two entries. It was like a soap opera; the fuzzy camera quality, enticing, scandalous notions or scenes, but ultimately, not juicy enough. Takasugi almost appreciated that bittersweet bite. He felt as though the dull pain in her words were palpable. Relatable, until the end. If she was lucky, that person would come along for her. If she was really lucky, they would steal her. Bleeding hearts weren't exactly his scene.

The next entry was significantly shorter and more orderly. What had previously been bursts of scribbled venting turned into legible wispy pen strokes hinting at caligraphy; leading Takasugi to believe that he had passed a boiling point and stumbled upon an oasis of insight. The first line read "Don't speak to the men without jackets, or the women in pants."

* * *

"He paid me a thousand yen to smile at everybody that made eye contact with me tonight. I thought it was a good deal; imagine all the pocky I could buy. Almost ten boxes! But then I realized. Everybody made eye contact with me. My face hurts. I could barely get away from them all. "

A pair of cerulean eyes flicked upward, long enough to spy a well-dressed bachelor, mingling with his friends. People in more fancy dresses and three-piece suits surrounded them all. Champagne flutes in every available hand. Kinu had to remind herself that any male without a coat, or female without a dress, was a server. She was not allowed to converse with them, unless it was in the form of a request.

Her focus returned to the book that rested across the green satin of her lap. She tightened her grasp on her pen, trying to focus on what she could write to pass the time.

"Now I'm off against the wall; sitting down by myself. He's still talking. He's so extroverted, it's almost painful to watch. Even if I'm just standing beside him. He made me eat a strawberry cupcake. I feel sick. "

Again, she glanced up to find her fiancé deep in conversation. Laughing as he placed his glass on a passing tray. A flesh-colored heel tapped under her chair and her book lightly jumped with the motion. The girl shifted to cross her legs and used her pen to scratch her scalp; it was the only way. Her fingers couldn't fit into the bird's nest that the maids had created.

"I've never been one to dream about boys or men. Whatever you'd like to call them. No, I'd much rather curl up with a story by Higa Naoy. But lately, I can't help but think about it. I imagine that he would be smart. Funny, and distant. He would be assertive, and only for me to know- the man I love. I'm sure he's somewhere. Just late. His train's been delayed."

A voice raised over the crowd; loud enough to earn awareness, but not understanding. Another laugh spread over the room, yet Kinu remained buried in her journal. Just a few more hours and she'd be home. She was so lost in thought that the sound of her name didn't register.

"Not so tall that I'd need a step ladder to kiss him. I wouldn't care if he was romantic. Actually, I'd rather him not be. That would be awkward. I'm already awkward. And he'd be big and strong. That'd just be a bonus. Definitely not Amagi Itsuo. I don't want all of this; these people with the cupcakes and the chests.

"No, with that guy, I'd be happy just living in a dumpster. He'd make me smile, and I'd forget the smell. And his name would be a pun. Like Hiro or-"

* * *

It ended there. That was it. Nevertheless, it was the last entry before the one he had already read. No more diary.

The front page of the book had one character "Ki", and an address, listed in an "if you find this notebook" box. There was a phone number, and generally any way to contact the girl. One thing that caught the man's eye was the street of the listed address. The apartment complex was nowhere near Amagi's house. It was on the opposite end of town, a short distance from the car shop. A notably poor area, filled with graffiti and overgrown hedges; where nature ran amuck due to the lack of professional landscapers.

If the address was right, the girl was far from her element; attending fancy parties and scolding herself over manners.

So Takasugi resolved to mail the book. It would save him the trouble of returning it, and possibly be less thoughtful. He wouldn't have to worry about it, and could use a PO box as his return address. It was so simple it was stupid.

As long as he was quick about it, he wouldn't have to think of the book again. He'd finish it before bed, and send it back where it belonged. All he needed to do was place a little note on it, saying she forgot it, and voila. Problem solved. Book gone forever.

According to plan, Takasugi remained awake and skimmed the entire journal. He did everything he thought; finished the book, packaged it, addressed it to the apartment listed inside of the book.

Then he dropped it in a mailbox and forgot about it on his way to meet with the Amagi heir. Even if he wanted to, Takasugi wouldn't turn down a front row seat to a fighting match. He didn't particularly like the sport, but it was too expensive to turn down. Takasugi was an appreciator of fine things, and though he wouldn't blow his own money on a seat at a sports show, he wouldn't complain if somebody else did. Especially if he was invited.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Update! It's been a while, and I had a sudden burst of inspiration. Hope you all enjoy. The chapter got split in two because it was too long, hopefully the second half will be posted tomorrow. Please excuse any typos. I'm incredibly tired and need to proof read tomorrow. Hope you enjoy, and all feedback is welcome. :)**

* * *

Early in the afternoon, Takasugi arrived at the Amagi estate. Large wooden doors were held open for him by two maids, and he was promptly led through the luxurious house. The woman showed him up a set of wooden stairs, and through burgundy shaded halls until they came to a halt outside of another cherry door. The brunette that had lead him gently tapped on the door before opening it and motioning for Takasugi to enter. Before him, stood an extensive library; complete with a sliding ladder to reach the top shelves. As expected, the room kept the warm color scheme of the house. Rich wood tones, browns, reds, and anything that looked like it was from the Victorian era.

An aged, tan globe stood on its own, supported by a copper stand. In tow with the bold colors, an occasional houseplant speckled the room. In the center, seated at a mahogany desk, was Amagi. He was leaning over a book, intently reading. Across from him, his fiancé had taken post, also buried in a book. Amagi glanced up at the girl and picked up a conversation that sounded as if it had long been dropped.

"-the charities and... Well, I'm no _philargyrist _or anything but-"

"Hm." Kinu's head raised, and she eyed the man behind the desk. "You're reading a dictionary."

Just as Amagi's pride evaporated, Takasugi entered the room. It looked as if he was interrupting something. Nevertheless, he was greeted with Amagi's signature smile. The girl didn't even turn to acknowledge.

"Takasugi-san! You made it! Let me get my coat." The chestnut-haired man closed the book in front of him. His chair scraped the hardwood as he pushed himself to his feet. Amagi stopped as he reached his fiancé's side. He tapped her shoulder and she barely turned her head, though it was possibly that her eyes didn't leave her novel.

"Are you wearing that?" The low question earned a nod and again, the girl disappeared in her book.

With a sigh, Amagi shook his head and strolled from the room, leaving Takasugi to peer after him. The last thing he wanted was be left with the girl. There wasn't anything wrong with her per say, but knowing that he knew her more than he should was almost uncomfortable. Especially when he considered the fact that she didn't even make expressions. Was he supposed to talk to her? Feign his way through idle chitchat while Amagi coordinated his shoes with his belt and jacket?

When the one-eyed man turned back towards the girl, he found a pair of cerulean orbs locked onto him. Just staring. No smile, no frown, just... Looking. It was slightly unnerving, to be outwardly scrutinized to such a degree. There was nothing to do but stare back. Movement seemed an impossible notion; alongside audibly breathing. What the hell was she looking at like that? He wondered if there was something on his face or clothes. Maybe a giant splotch on the wrap of his left eye. Something that warranted the girl's full attention.

Slowly, she closed the book in her lap and placed it aside. The girl raised to her feet; her eyes on his the entire time. Much to Takasugi's dismay, the girl started towards him. A barely-there frown finally developed between her brows, and she continued to approach. Just as she neared, the girl passed, leaving ample amount of hostility to make up for the lack of words.

Amagi was right.

Jeans weren't exactly appropriate for an upscale environment.

One relatively short car ride later, they were at the gathering. The entire way, Amagi had taken care to fill the silence with humorous memories and stories; all evasive of business and hardly interesting. Takasugi had played along though, and offered an occasional snicker. It was better than saying nothing. By the time they arrived, Takasugi had learned that Amagi had learned how to ride a horse and joust as a kid. Fun times.

They sat, ringside, indulging in drinks as the match began. It was a decently sized room; large enough to fit a cage and surround it with what Takasugi could only describe as "bleachers". The rich man's version, coated in leather and complete with a back on each chair. Servers slowly made their rounds, offering food and drinks as if it was a run-of-the-mill baseball game. The only difference was that these vendors sold caviar, and peanut were nowhere in sight. Probably an ask-for snack. Takasugi sat to Amagi's right, while the fiancé sat to his left; not paying attention to the competition before them. She'd brought a book.

When the opponents entered the ring, it became clear that they were not "intelligent Amanto in the slightest. The creatures in the cage were reminiscent of canines, behaving as such to a tee. The moment they laid eyes on one another, they became aggressive. They were on all fours, pulling at the chains of their handlers in attempt to get the other. One was black, the other green, and both of the same breed.

Takasugi had never seen anything like it. Not the creatures, but the fighting scene. He had half-expected it to be two Amanto fist fighting, or wrestling. Boxing, or something. Not an alien dog fight. A man in a gray suit walked past the front row, holding a clipboard and basket. He was halted by Amagi, who then reached into his pocket and fished out his wallet. The man licked his thumb and started to count bills before finishing with a small yet wastefully valuable stack.

"On the green." The man was grinning as he placed his bet, and Takasugi questioned the man's sanity. He could appreciate having a bit of money to blow, but on dog fights, of all things? There were plenty of ways to gamble that didn't include pointlessly killing animals. People, sure, but animals? It was senseless. He wasn't exactly a dog fan, but even he wouldn't host or condone forcing them to murder one another.

It started. Both animals were unreined and in an instant, the central cage turned into a snarling, growling mess. The beasts were ferocious, slashing one another and literally tearing each other to pieces. Takasugi could do nothing but watch. Not out of enjoyment, or repulsion. Mere curiosity, fueled his gaze. The accumulated crowd cheered and shouted obscenities at the animals. Commanding both to slay the other. Not satisfied by the existing gashes or pooling blood. Nothing ever bothered Takasugi. He had nerves of steel and a general "no fucks given" attitude, but even he recognized that he was disturbed.

The only thing that broke his concentration was the man beside him.

"Pay attention." Takasugi barely leaned forward to find the man grasping his fiance's jaw. Amagi raised her chin and positioned it straight ahead with the simple command of "watch". Her arms drooped over the notepad in her lap, which she had apparently been scribbling in. Amagi's hand fell and his grin returned, yet the expression was far less cheerful than usual.

Out of the corner of her eyes, the girl caught Takasugi's gaze, back straight, and still in form as instructed. From the glance, Takasugi could tell that she wasn't fond of the event. Much to his dismay, a warm liquid splattered across his neck . Drops hit his face and chest and Takasugi was immediately aware of what it was. The splash had hit most of the front row, and while most people moved to wipe the blood away, Amagi remained perfectly still. Intently staring at the gruesome struggle and not bothering to wipe his face.

Even when the girl started to rub the crimson from her own skin, her hand was caught by her betrothed and pushed down. A dark puddle had formed on a page of her book, and the girl's eyes were glued to it. That was Takasugi's cue to order another drink. That and the preceding fights. Every pointlessly graphic battle to the death. The murder of each loser. Each flinch on the girl's part, which received a scolding glance, or direction to watch until the end. And to top it all off, the growing stack of money in Amagi's wallet.

It was more than enough to show that while Takasugi would admit he could be a _bit _cruel, there was a limit. Pointless cruelty was no good. This was a different park altogether. Sure, he could watch without so much as a raised brow, but that didn't mean he found it entertaining. The most fun he was having was the free drinks and cheesy crackers. With the world starting to blur, he found himself studying the room more than the competition. The steel support beams that branched across the ceiling, concrete floors and stone walls. It was truly an underground chamber, in every sense of the word, and it readily absorbed the stench of blood. He was almost startled when he spied a blue eye, transfixed on him. Almost sizing him up, despite the girl's straight posture. She didn't turn her head to face him, but her gaze slowly faded away; sparing him.

The last thing he needed was some condescending sober girl to try to make him process her weird looks and shit. Not his problem. Again, his cup was refilled, and Takasugi lifted it to his lips. Much to his surprise, it splashed against his mouth, dribbled down his chin and landed on the dress shirt Kawakami had forced him to wear. How the hell did that happen? Physics, and shit. It was toying with him on purpose.

By the time everybody piled into a cab, Takasugi knew he was wasted. He'd lost count of how many times his cup generated another drink; he was positive that it was a never-ending fountain of sugary alcoholic goodness. He'd managed to maintain his sober act, careful not to misstep on his way to the taxi, but before they could leave, Amagi asked the driver to wait. A song had started to loop, and turned out to be the older-man's cell phone. He answered it, spoke in a hushed tone and stepped out of the cab for privacy.

During the time that they were alone, neither Takasugi, or the short girl beside him spoke. They picked their spaces, their sides, and kept to them; Takasugi's eye on the window beside him, and the girl at an angle, at nothing in particular. A tap at the window caused both to turn to Amagi's side, and the man motioned for the window to be lowered. His fiancé obliged, gingerly winding the handle on the side of the door to allow for conversation.

"I've got some business to take care of. How much will it cost for you to get back home?"

Nothing to do with Takasugi. His attention returned to the window as the girl shrugged. After the rustling of clothes and friction of counted paper, the back of the taxi was lightly smacked, and the car started to move. Then it was just him and the girl, trapped in a dreadfully silent car. A peek over his shoulder revealed that she was fiddling with the money; eyes fixed on her lap. Beside her, streetlights danced across the window.

Didn't look like she wanted to talk.

"So, uh," And still, Takasugi opened his mouth.

The girl didn't acknowledge him, he continued.

"He was really into that, back there." Leaning back in the seat, Takasugi watched as the girl turned to her window. Still no acknowledgment. "You're a weird couple, you know?" Silence. "Could at least act happy to see 'em or somethin'." Alcohol. That's all. It was alcohol. He was not telling his mouth what to say.

Finally, the girl turned to him, eyes squint. "Hm?" As if she really hadn't heard him.

He repeated himself once, louder, and the girl's head dropped into her open palm. She went from shaking her head to squeezing the bridge of her nose. Next he knew, she was calling to the driver, and requesting a place that had been too low to comprehend. Almost in the blink of an eye, a small building with what seemed to be a thousand windows came into view. It's sign lit the entire parking lot, reading "Sleep Inn". While Takasugi processed the unusual place to stop, he figured the girl was going to get herself a room and call it a night.

That was the only explanation. And then she returned, paid the cab fee, and opened his door. He gawked up at the oddly blank face on her neck, not sure of what to do.

"Come on, you're drunk. I can't let you go anywhere like this." As if it pained her to say it, she kept her jaw tight. Her hand was offered, and stared at.

What was she trying to do? He wasn't sure if he could trust her. It was a trap. For some reason. She was trying to get him somewhere, to do something, but he didn't know what. He felt himself being tugged from the car, lifted by his arm somehow, and then he was walking.


End file.
